Anticipating Leah
by AutumnRiver13
Summary: When soldier Leah Andersson is kidnapped and tortured for information about a group of supernatural people she didn't know existed, she becomes a ever-faster ticking time bomb. Then, Victor Benedict comes to her rescue and it's onesided hate at first sight. But will Victor be able to convince her of the truth soon enough to defuse her and eliminate the threat to all of their lives?
1. Chapter 1

**Voilà! My new fanfic about Victor and his soulfinder Leah Andersson. This actually takes place **_**before **_**my other story Convincing Kira so Kira isn't featured in it. I hope you enjoy and as always, please leave a review!**

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me. All rights to the amazing Joss Stirling! **

Chapter One – Leah POV

„Why did she do it?

"Is she mental or something?"

"It looked like she did it on purpose"

Confused by all the agitated voices, I squint slightly as I open my eyes. What are they talking about?

"This will have to be reported. The girl sacrificed herself without any thought." Me.

Captain Belgrove's distinct gruff tone won't accept any retaliation. But I have to try. I can't just be put on the back line waiting for the people in front of me to get killed so that I can step over their bodies pretending I'm still strong and tough.

"Sergeant Andersson, you're awake." First Lieutenant Russell has entered the infirmary and wears a concerned look on his face. "You feeling alright, Sergeant?"

Not quite trusting myself to speak, I just nod and reach for the glass of water on the little bedside table.

"The incident will be reported, Sergeant."

I shoot up, ignoring the pain in my head and shake my head frantically.

"Please, sir. You cannot. I was just doing my job."

"Your job was to complete the task successfully and with as few lives lost as possible. Your job was not to put yourself purposefully in harms way and think that counts as a sacrifice."  
"I-" I break off. I know full well that one cannot argue with Lieutenant Russell.

"How did you survive the attack anyway?" Russell asks and quickly glances towards the door. He isn't supposed to ask this question. However, I have no idea how to answer it anyway. I guess 'I pulled electricity out of the nearby lamp and used it to keep my heart beating' sounds too strange. That's the slightly annoying thing about my existence. My body's refusal to die.

"I don't remember" I lie and flop back down onto the hard matress. Russell takes that as his cue to leave, not before ruffling my hair the way he always does in an affectionate, fatherly way. He has no idea -

For as long as I can remember, I have been able to get stronger by … absorbing power, mostly in the form of electricity, into my own body. It's abnormal, I don't know why I can do it and that's why I enlisted. I need to die. What is happening to me – the moving stuff around with touching them, the reading minds, the power stuff – is not normal. How am I supposed to survive in a world when if they find out, I'll be stuck in a mental institution? So I have to get rid of myself before they do.

The infirmary is pitch dark as I wake up and I need a few minutes to adjust. And just like that, an escape route forms in my mind. Out of the infirmary, up the stairs along the corridor to the other side of the base, downstairs, out the door, past the guards, and underneath the fence.

Shortly after Russell left, Captain Belgrove charged into the ward, handing me my form of General Discharge, accompanied by the words "You're going home, Andersson!"

This is my worst nightmare come true. I can't return home, not to my parents. They pretended to be proud when I told them I'd enlisted but I think they were just glad to be rid of me.

So, now I'm sneaking across the corridor connecting the two buildings of the base, attempting freedom. I can't blend in with the locals, what with my blonde hair and big green eyes, but I could flee somewhere up into the North. And from there, perhaps back to the Caspian Sea, where I was born. Private Ferris and Private Thornton are on duty at the West entrance tonight but they are so engrossed in a conversation about LeBron James that they do not notice me sneaking around the fence and over the barrier. I run about two miles before stopping at a little rickety clay hut and take a deep breath. Is this what freedom smells like?

Does freedom really mean having to sneak around behind clay huts and wash the blood off your face with muddy water? But before I can even get back up again, my mouth is covered by a pair of dirty hands and a rifle is shoved against my temple.

_You scream, we shoot!_

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two – Victor POV

Soulfinders. Everywhere. At my brother's house, in Mum and Dad's house, just not in my house. I'm slipping. I am throwing myself into my work more than ever and I know that Mum hates it. I'm hardly ever at home but I really don't know what I'm supposed to do around all those mushy, loved-up couples that call themselves my siblings. The only reason I agreed to drive down to Wrickenridge is that Crystal has offered to find my soulfinder for me. Uriel has gone all chicken and is really scared that he'll find his soulfinder is dead or something so he's quite hesitant about the whole thing. And Will … he's just Will. Laid back, not a care in the world, totally chillax or whatever he calls it.

"VIC!" Mum calls and engulfs me in a massive hug.

"Hey, Mum", I mumble and make to disentangle myself.

"Don't 'Hey Mum' me! I haven't heard from you in over two weeks, young man. Explain yourself!"

"Had stuff to do at work" I grunt and shove past her.

"Hey, Vic" Crystal greets me less patronizingly as she leaps down the stairs and doesn't quite suffocate me with her hug.

"Ready for the big moment?" She asks and I can tell she's feeling a bit apprehensive about all of this.

"Sure" I say and have to repress a groan as Xav bounds down the stairs and ruffles Crystal's hair which she retaliates with a slap in the stomach which he responds to with a kiss. I just hope my soulfinder won't be up for such cheesy crap.

Everybody is gathered in the living room. And I mean Everybody. Sky is perched on Zed's knee with his arm slung loosely around her waist, Phoenix and Yves are cuddling in front of his laptop where they are probably watching The Notebook or something, Xav and Crystal are arguing about who gets to sit on the big comfortable bean bag, and Trace and Diamond are having a whispered conversation which for some reason involves touching each other in every sentence. Mum and Dad are the only ones who are seemingly able to keep it together.

"So, let's get this started" Crystal says, who, after losing the argument, is now wrapped in Xav's arms who's sitting in the beanbag chair.

I take a seat opposite and carefully let my shields down, something I do very rarely in this household or ever at all. I sense Crystal's consciousness carefully treading in my mind, searching for the soulfinder link.

"Oh", she says and pulls back.

"What?" I ask and slowly an image creeps into my mind.

"Umm..." She exchanges a scared look with Xav as I slam my walls back up.

_**Tell me. **_

"Cut it out" she snaps and I can tell that she's pissed I tried to use my compulsion on her.

"Prison, Farah, Afghanistan."

"Prison?" I breathe. What has she done? Is she in trouble?

"She's innocent but she's being held captive in a prison in Farah."

"You can tell she's innocent?" I ask and she looks confident as she responds, "She's got a kind soul."

"Is she a local or a soldier?"

"I'm afraid I don't know."

"There's a US military base about ten miles from Farah" Yves cuts in. "You could start looking there."

"Hang on" Mum says, "Vic, honey, you can't just go … flying out to Afghanistan. There is a war going on there."

"And I need to get my soulfinder out of there" I say and pull Mum into a hug.

"I'll be fine, Mum. I have a couple of colleagues who've got connections out there. They'll get me there safe."  
"What will you tell them about your reasons for getting your soulfinder out of prison? You can't just go in there saying you're a Savant" Zed asks.

"I'll … create a cover case." Or something. I would never admit it to my brothers but I don't actually have a concrete plan.

"Oh, Vic" Mum sighs and looks at Dad for help.

"Mum" I say before Dad can butt in, "I'll be fine. I'm 25 years old, I can handle myself, I'll go over there, I'll get my soulfinder out, the end."  
"C'mon, Vic", Will says, "you of all people should know that it's never _the end _if your last name is Benedict."

"Yeah, but with all the butts I rescued, I think I know how to handle it by now."

"Vic!" Mum gasps and exchanges a worried look with Dad.

Shit, that might've gone too far.

"If you need anything, I'll be upstairs packing."

And even though they all make an effort to keep their voices down, I still hear snippets of the discussion caused by my departure. _Slipping – lonely – not himself. _

Of course I'm not myself without my other half. Without the person that makes me complete. Without my soulfinder.

Chester, a friend of mine with an extraordinarily useful telekinesis skill, is able to organize a flight from the army base near Pueblo in the early evening so I've only got fifteen minutes left before I have to leave. Mum is, of course, crying with Dad trying his best to comfort her. The rest of them all look like this is gonna be the last time they're gonna see me despite Zed's mental message that I'll make it out alive.

"Good luck" Crystal whispers as she hugs me and Sky must've sensed my apprehension as she gave me an extra-long hug and a consoling pat on the shoulder that I barely feel.

"Hurry up so I can go looking for mine" Uriel says, surprising us all. However, I don't elaborate on his order and just reach over to pull him into a hug.

_Don't worry, I will. _

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me. All rights to Joss Stirling. **

**WARNING: There are descriptions of violence in this chapter (i.e. torture) so if that's not your thing you can skip the middle ;) ) **

Chapter Three – Leah POV

Until I was eight years old, my parents and I lived in north Germany, in a neat little cottage at the Baltic Coast. It was there that I first heard the idiom "Die Ruhe vor dem Sturm" – the lull before the storm. Back then, before the incident at school that forced us to move, I felt safe even though there were incredibly terrifying storms every month - because I was inside, in my mother's arms that didn't refuse to hold me yet, and she kept murmuring in my ear that it was outside and that it couldn't harm me.

Now, I don't feel safe. I know the next storm is about to come but my mother's arms aren't around me, nobody's whispering comforting words in my ear and I know that the next storm is going to harm me just as much as the first five did – if not more.

* * *

It is more. Much more. Fire ignites my veins but not in a mushy love kind of way. It burns them, it paralyzes them, it kills them slowly. That's what it feels like. Like my body is being torn apart (which it kinda is by this monstrous torture machine that's pulling my arms away from my torso), like …

My scream echoes through the concrete cell and I don't even try to bite it back this time. Tears run down my cheeks, mixing with the blood from a slash on my cheekbone and further down with the remains of my breakfast that came out of my mouth during the second session.

I hear a cackle from the human killing machine next to me, who bends down close to my ear and whispers, "Why don't you just tell us what we want to know, sweetie, and we'll let you go" His breath is hot against my ear and drops of saliva touch my neck. I force myself not to let any more tears fall at the contact and put on my best poker face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's what all those idiot criminals in crap TV series say, don't they?"

"I wouldn't know now, would I?" I say before I can stop myself and I have to bite back a scream as his knife swipes across my stomach again, leaving a large gash.

"Just tell us, or we'll make sure that none of those Americans get hurt at the base."

Tell them what? I wish I could convince them that I truly do not know what they want from me. I do not know about –

"Aamir!"

The machine straightens up immediately and his smug grin is wiped off his scarred face completely. I force my aching head to look toward the door and almost laugh at what I see. I would really laugh if my stomach didn't hurt so much. A tiny, oompa-loompa like man waddles towards Aamir, takes the knife from him and wordlessly gestures to the door. I guess that's the Pashto way of saying "P*** off".  
Aamir leaves but not without throwing me one last malicious look at me behind his boss' back.

"Please accept my apologies, Miss Andersson, my son-in-law can be a little … intense sometimes."

I feel sorry for his daughter then. The man's English is flawless and neither from his accent nor from his looks can I really tell where he's from. His hair is dark like everyone's around here but his skin is too pale for him to be a local. His accent lies somewhere between Indian and Russian. As he moves forward, I instinctively lean back against the wooden restraints digging into my back though I refuse to look away from his almost black eyes.

"Miss Andersson, this…" He gestures to my face, my shoulders and my stomach, the most damaged areas of my body, "this would be so much easier if you were just willing to cooperate with us. I believe us to be on the same side."

"Is it the good or the bad side?" I ask and can see a twinkle in his eyes at my seemingly witty reply.

"My dear Miss Andersson, the world cannot be divided into good and bad. There are shades of grey between the black and white."

"Let me guess, there are fifty of them?"

The man doesn't get the reference and crouches down in front of me.

"Let me start with a proper introduction. My name is Abdul and I just want you to tell us what we want to know. We know that you have acquired some information on the subject and we would just like you to convey that information to us."

"I'm sorry but I have no idea what you're talking about." I refuse to let myself be one of these sobbing blonde chicks in movies who scream and beg for their captor's mercy.

"Miss Andersson, we asked you a very simple Yes-No question. We already knew the answer to it but you still lied to us. And lying must be punished." As if summoned, Aamir strides into the room this time with two ropes and a head band, grinning like it's Christmas day.

As he fastens the ropes on the wall and tightens the headband around my forehead, Abdul asks once again, this time leaning so close to me that his sweaty nose bumps against the metal of the headband.

"What do you know about Victor Benedict?"

The pain starts all over again.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts belong to me – all rights to Joss Stirling. **

Chapter Four – Vic POV

Suffocating heat. Cough-inducing dust. Nothing but sand and stone. Fine, slightly exaggerated but to me, right now, it doesn't look like a warzone at all. That is until I hear that American accent I missed after more than 24 hours of being cooped up in a military plane with an annoying newbie, whose constant optimism and cheerfulness makes me want to reach for the nearest bucket. Turning around, I find myself facing a strongly tanned, middle-aged face and a pair of steel-grey, cold eyes that are staring right at me. I try to do my best to hold the man's gaze and I have to breathe in my sigh of relief as he holds out his hand.

"First Lieutenant Russell. You must be Victor Benedict. And you have brought an assistant I see."

I grip Lieutenant's hand firmly, my masculine pride suddenly feeling threatened (Though Xav says my long hair makes me less masculine by nature).

"Yes, this is Jared Greenberg, my … assistant. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Greenberg just gives him a slight nod and backs away again quickly. Wimp.

"And I believe you need to speak to one of my protégées urgently."

Lieutenant Russell manages to make nothing he ever says sound like a question or anything indicating a possible insecurity.

"Which one?"

_**Focus, Vic. Remember the plot. Don't lose the plot!**_

"I'm afraid there was a problem with the correct identification of the woman back in the US and I have not yet received her registered name."

Lieutenant furrows his brow and cocks his head slightly to the left, evaluating my sincerity. I stare right back.

"Well, Mister Benedict, if she's female, that leaves a number of four possible candidates for your investigation." His voice is dripping in sarcasm and his lips form a superior smirk. Sensing my growing annoyance and frustration, Russell drops the expression and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

"My apologies, Mr Benedict. I haven't been feeling great today – one of my soldiers has gone missing. A couple of days ago."

I quickly glance around the soldiers that have gathered around Lieutenant and me and spot three of the four women at once. They all look much older than 26.

"What's his name? Perhaps we can assist in your search."

"Leah Andersson, one of the women. She was actually in the hospital wing up until Friday evening when Captain Belgrove and I saw her last, next morning she was gone."  
_**Leah Andersson. **_Music to my ears. Something about that name makes total sense in my mind, creates a perfect harmony – _**Focus, Vic! **_

"May I speak to Captain Belgrove?"

"No. You and Mister Greenberg will be coming with me to identify your candidate."

"Sir, I have reason to believe that our candidate _is _Leah Andersson."

"And what reason is that, Mr Benedict, may I ask?"

_**I felt a pull in my heart telling me that this girl is the love of my life. **_

"I have already looked at the other females. None of them match the physical description of the woman we're looking for."

"What is that physical description?"

_**Beautiful, stunning, amazing. **_

"Blonde hair, green eyes, around 5'5''." At least I did enough research on female soldiers currently deployed in Farah.

"That'd be Leah for sure."

"So may I please speak to Captain Belgrove? I volunteer to assist in the search."

"What d'you think this is, kiddo, the freaking Hunger Games? We don't volunteer, we just do. Besides, it was pretty clear from the start that you would be assisting the search. She's your candidate. Got herself in enough trouble by volunteering as it is."

"What's that supposed-?"

"Lieutenant Russell!"

At once, Russell stands straight as if a pole has been shoved up his rear end and jerks his hand up to salute. I turn to see a stocky, tall man in his fifties marching towards us, equally stiff as Russell. This has to be Captain Belgrove. He turns to me in one swift move and gives me a hard stare as he asks, "Name?"

"Victor Benedict. I was sent by the FBI on investigation about Leah Andersson-"

"I have ears, boy. I could hear you from a mile away, you'd make a right lousy soldier. Stevens!" He turns away from me and points at a young man in his early twenties who looks positively petrified as he is addressed by Captain Belgrove.

"Get Agent Benedict a uniform. You know how to use M16 rifle, I assume." He hands me said weapon and leaves, throwing the words "Leaving in five" over his shoulder.

Sensing my ignorance with the rifle, Russell quickly pulls me aside to explain it to me before leading Greenberg and me to a small room where I could change into the camouflage uniform I was handed. If Mom could see this, she'd have a heart attack. Not even one hour in the warzone and already wearing uniform and carrying a M16 rifle.

It's almost dusk as we set off towards the village on the other side of the valley. Belgrove's guess is that she's being held captive in one of the local houses. I'm trudging along at the back of our group of around fifteen as I let my conversation with Russell run through my head again. _"She got herself in enough trouble by volunteering…" _

I jog forward slightly to catch up with Russell and nudge his shoulder to get his attention. He jerks to the side as if I've just woke him up from a daydream.

"What did you mean when you said that Leah's got herself in enough trouble by volunteering?"

"First of all, don't ever touch me again." The soldiers behind us snigger before Russell glares at them, silencing them immediately.

"Second of all, bit early to be on first name bases with Leah. What's this investigation actually about?"

"That is confidential. It would infringe her privacy. I asked you a question, I would like you to answer it." I say with as much dignity as I could possibly muster and have to hide my surprise as Russell actually starts saying something that sounds like a normal answer.

"Sergeant Andersson was – is – prone to overestimating her abilities or should I say, underestimating her importance for this team."

Seeing the look on my face, he sighs and tries again.

"You know how I said that Captain Belgrove and I had last seen her in the hospital wing before her disappearance? Well, she was in there for throwing herself in the direct line of fire during an attack on the base. She saved about five lives but was quite badly injured with slashes and bruises all over her body. She's done it before. Throwing herself in harm's way and thinking that counts as a sacrifice."

"Doesn't it?" I ask and feel the urge to hit him over the head for sighing again.

"Agent, in the army, the soldiers' job is to protect themselves and each other. But foremost themselves because if everyone sticks to doing that, we're mostly left with as little casualties as possible. However with Leah, the strange thing aren't the sacrifices. It's how she survives them."

I look up to see if his conspirative tone is a joke to lighten the mood but he looks dead serious.

"She always says she can't remember how she survived but it's still near impossible for the body to go through such physical pain and strain and come out of with the heart still beating intact."

His answer makes me wonder what her gift is. But before I can form another coherent thought, my mind goes blank as an ear-shattering, heart-breaking scream echoes through my head.

**I'm expecting lots of reviews :) Next chapter of The Muppet Show will be up on Sunday if I get reviews from my favourite readers = ****all of you :)**

**xxx-benedictbrothersfan-xxx: I hope you appreciate the mention Jared Greenberg - Coach's two least favourite people :P Totally got inspired by Teen Wolf for once ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me. All rights to Joss Stirling. **

**WARNING: Again, there are some descriptions of violence in this chapter though not as much as in Chapter 4 but if you don't want to read it, you can just skim it. **

**Anyway, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I was on holiday in Ireland without Wi-Fi so that was quite a refreshing time :) **

Chapter Five – Leah POV

„The thing is, my dear Miss Andersson" Abdul leans even closer and I can smell the alcohol on his breath so strongly I have to fight back gagging. "Your Victor Benedict works for our American friends in the FBI and we have recently found out that he is the leading and driving force behind an investigation that is working on 'uncovering' our little … business organization."

"What do you mean _my _Victor Benedict? I have never heard of him."

"Liar!"

His yell echoes through the cell, accompanied by the dull thud of my head being slammed against the concrete wall.

"We know exactly what your relationship to Mr Benedict is." Abdul, despite his pitiful appearance, manages to make himself seem impossibly terrifying.

I want to say that I have no idea what they're talking about but my head hurts so much that I can't even think of the right words to say. Instead, I shake my head ever so carefully. Another punch right in the gut.

"Are you telling us that you think we're the ones lying?" Aamir pulls back his fist again, this time hitting my shoulder so hard I hear a crack and stabbing pain shoots up to my brain. Again the light above flickers and I feel less weak.

"Aamir!" Abdul lays a perfectly manicured hand on his son-in-laws shoulder and pulls him back. "Violence is not the answer, son."

I manage a wheezy laugh at the irony but am quickly reprimanded by a knife carving another letter into my arm. However, I hardly feel anything. The first sign of death being close – complete numbness to physical pain.

"Listen, Miss Andersson. Our source, a very reliable one might I add, has let slip that you and Victor Benedict share a very special bond."

Bond? We've never even met. But again, my mouth refuses to cooperate.

"He's your soulfinder."

"What the hell are you talking about? What is a soulfinder?" The absurdity of his last sentence makes my brain work again for a short while.

Abdul throws a glance behind him, at a young man who has kept his head down for most of today's session. The man nods and quickly averts his eyes before they become fixed on my mangled body.

Abdul lets out a gasp and forces me to look at him by pulling back my hair.

"You really have no idea." It isn't a question.

I repress an eye roll and let out a groan as he lets go of my head so abruptly that it snaps back to my chest.

"Unbelievable!"

_So, you've never done telepathy before either. _

A voice, his voice … but his mouth didn't move. That isn't possible. No. NO. How… what is …

_Judging by your shocked expression, I'm assuming the answer is no. _

No, no, no. What is this? Some sick trick? How is he doing it?

His cold, brown eyes stare right into mine, as if … as if he was staring right into my soul.

I sense the freedom of my hands and feet as their restraints are cut open but I don't move. I can't. He…. He was speaking to me in my mind. That shit isn't possible. no, no, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening. But it is. And I can't stop my body from toppling out of the chair, onto the cold, blood-splattered floor. And for the first time since I was taken here, I give way to the darkness consuming me.

* * *

I awake from the icy water that is splashed on my face. I have no idea how long I've been out but I'm more concerned about the fact how badly my wounds are stinging from their first contact with water in days.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart. You're moving."

I shake my head to get the water out of my eyes and ears and twist my head to see who's talking. Aamir, Abdul's son-in-law, is pulling me by my hair and runs his hand along my front, clearly enjoying the way I shudder away in disgust.

"What a shame that Abdul won't let me enjoy you before you go."

"Go where?" I ask, trying to shake off the hand that is working its way down from my neck to my chest.

"You'll see, sweetheart."

He leads me out of the cell and starts tugging and pushing me into various hallways and tunnels, thankfully keeping his hands to himself as another guard, the youngest one I've seen here, joins us, a rifle against my back. As if I was in any fit state to fight now - they made sure of that.

Along the way, I have to stop and lean against a wall to puke out the bread I got for breakfast, though this time I become worried as chunks of blood accompany the pieces of bread.

"Get a move on, sweetheart. We don't want to be late on your big day."

Aamir turns one final corner and tugs me through a creaking, wooden door that opens into a courtyard of some sort.

The sun. The sky. I'd almost forgotten what the outside world looked like. On a podium in the middle of the yard stands large object covered by a dirty piece of loin cloth. Next to it, Abdul in what look like his best clothes, staring at me maliciously.

"Well, well, what have we here?" He holds out one hand, obviously to help me up onto the podium though I doubt that my shoulders can survive me lifting my arms. So two other guards grab me under my armpits, I have to smirk as they cringe at the dried sweat that has gathered there, and heave me up onto the podium, making me fall on my knees at Abdul's feet.

"See, my dear Miss Andersson, we have been watching you for a while now. My men have told me all about your … survival skills."

Oh, shit. I keep my head bowed on my knees to avoid the eye contact I know he wants.

"We took you because you are our connection to Victor Benedict – at least we thought so. So now, as we have all established that you truly have no idea about Savants and soulfinders, let alone Victor Benedict, you have proven to be completely useless to us now."

I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach because I know what's about to happen. I've heard the guards talk about it.

"Naturally, we cannot possibly let you go, so we have come up with a method of … execution you couldn't possibly survive. That rules out guns, electrocution, torture… Can you guess what it is?"

Now I raise my head and I know the look on my face is exactly what he wants to see.

"How can you make a game out of this?"

He ignores my question and gives a hand signal to three scantily-clad women on the other side of the massive machine-like object.

"You don't want to play? Well then, ladies, if you will."

The white sheet is pulled back swiftly to reveal a guillotine. I almost let out a laugh of relief but at the same time, a mix of emotion fill me up. A little voice in the back of my head whispers that this is what I wanted. I joined the army to be rid of parents, to eliminate myself before I get stuck in an asylum. Then the bigger voice just screams in protest. It is a scream so loud it fills up my mind, it stops all the junk flying around it and replaces it with a very graphic image of my head, rolling around this podium. I let the scream consume me, block out Abdul and Aamir's laughter. And then, I let the scream out of my mind and into the open.

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